


Wanderlust

by goodra



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chikan, Come Shot, Exhibitionism, Other, Public Sex, Train Sex, Voyeurism, being watched, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodra/pseuds/goodra
Summary: Bokuto and Akaashi have some fun on a long train journey.





	Wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> i created a separate account so that i didn't have to post this on my main, then used all my usual tropes anyway, so you probably know who i am. enjoy, and thanks to [x] for the beta.

Koutarou had begun to squirm around twenty minutes into the journey, somewhere in the rural outskirts of Kawasaki. To the untrained eye, he seemed simply restless: he kept resting one ankle on his knee and then switching to the other, his fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, pausing only to swipe roughly at his nose with his thumb. Perhaps he wasn't used to long journeys - his eyes darted around the train carriage as if looking for an escape, leaning his head against the window but failing to take in the picturesque scenery that rushed by.

Keiji knew better, though. They reached their hand over to squeeze his inner thigh, exhaling softly - only Koutarou would recognise it as a laugh - when he jumped, knocking his head against the glass.

“Can you wait until we change?” Keiji asked. Koutarou turned to look at them, eyes wide and lips pouting, but they hadn't taken their gaze from the front of the carriage, where the LED banner spelled out the next few stops.

“That's so long…” 

Keiji raised an eyebrow. He was pushing it, and they both knew it - the rising flush on Koutarou's throat told Keiji that he hadn't expected them to indulge him at all until they got home. Now that they'd acknowledged him, he wanted to see how much he could get. “An hour is too much?”

The next train would have been quieter, and Keiji would have had the chance to plan, but Koutarou must have noticed something in their tone, because he latched onto their slight hesitance with fierce determination. Koutarou’s eyes were downcast when he bumped his head against their shoulder, his knee bouncing as he tried not to wriggle, but there was a dimple in his cheek as he stifled his smile - he knew he had them. “It is  _ now _ … I would have waited, but now you’ve got me thinkin’ about it…” he grinned into their sleeve. “This is your fault, really.”

A quick slap to the arm had Koutarou whining, but his grin didn’t fade, and even as Keiji shook their head they felt a rising bubble of fondness in their chest. Koutarou’s appetite for  _ everything  _ was insatiable, and it was what drew Keiji to him again and again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Keiji told him as Koutarou rubbed his arm, still  giggling childishly with victory . His laughter stopped short of a gasp, though, tongue near-hanging out of his mouth when Keiji leaned close enough to whisper. “Wait fifteen minutes - then come and find me.”

Keiji stood up immediately, leaving no time for Koutarou to ask them any questions, and if their stride into the next carriage held more arrogance than usual, it was because of the jaw they knew they had left dropping behind them. One of the best things about spoiling Koutarou was that he never expected he would be given something; no matter how entitled he sounded when he asked, there was a part of him that believed he didn't deserve it. Keiji delighted in being able to show him that he deserved the world and more...and if they could get a thrill from it, all the better.

The train itself was short for the length of its journey. Keiji had hoped the next carriage might be quieter than the one they had just left, but they had no success, and none in the one after that, either. Many of the seats were filled with business men slouching over their laptops in loosened ties, or backpackers crammed into their seats with their luggage on their knees. No one paid Keiji any mind as they passed down the center of the car, even when their knee brushed against the thigh of a man that had decided to claim territory beyond his seat.

“Excuse me,” Keiji said, offering him a quick nod. He grunted without looking up, absorbed in his newspaper. The seats two rows in front of him were empty, across from someone who had put their hat over their head to sleep.

Keiji looked behind them. Rows of heads staring down or out of windows spread out through the carriages that separated them from Koutarou. It was crowded, and it should be so easy to be seen - to be noticed - and yet no one did.

Keiji took the empty seat closest to the aisle, stretching their legs out to mark the other for Koutarou. The feet of the sleeping man across from them twitched when he snored, and they checked their watch.

Koutarou would be there in ten minutes.

The wait was tantalising at first. Keiji shifted as if they had contracted Koutarou’s restlessness, one eye on their watch and jumping at the slightest movement behind them. Frustrated with themself, they removed their watch and shoved it into the pocket of their skirt, squaring their shoulders and focusing on their breathing. Their neighbour’s snores were a metronome for their own exhalations, and soon enough they had calmed themself. The landscape rushed past them, cities blurring into towns and then villages, and Keiji could almost have forgotten that they were waiting for anyone at all.

“Excuse me - is anyone sitting here?”

Keiji’s thoughts - or lack of - were interrupted by a hand landing firmly on their headrest. Koutarou bore down on them from above, a wide but impersonal smile on his face as he waited for their response. He must have used his time well; clearly he had been thinking about what kind of scenario he wanted, as well as the hints Keiji had left him. He treated Keiji like a stranger, and Keiji responded in kind, offering a short nod and then sliding into the window seat. Koutarou beamed, teeth showing and radiant in the way he only ever did when he was trying to charm someone, and took the seat beside them, his legs spread wide to bump against their thighs.

“Thanks,” he offered. “I was kind of worried I’d have to wait for the next stop.”

Keiji only hummed in response, their face turned back to the window. In the glass they saw Koutarou frown, a brief flash of uncertainty in his reflection, but it was important to maintain the illusion. After a few moments he relaxed into his chair, allowing his back to slouch and his fingers to resume their relentless drumming, still encroaching on Keiji’s space in the adjacent seat. If he really  _ had _ been a stranger, Keiji would have been infuriated. As it was, they decided to strike back.

They moved quickly and barely at all, but Koutarou’s breath still caught when Keiji reached out to grab his closest thigh, fingers squeezing where they knew he was most sensitive. His head stayed glued rigidly to the headrest, facing straight ahead, but Keiji saw the reflection of his eyes darting towards them in the window, wide and startled. The glass didn’t allow for much detail, but Keiji could still imagine the dilating of his pupils, and the shudder of his iris as he coughed.

“Uhm,” Koutarou began, and stopped when Keiji looked at him, eyes lidded. They kept their expression impersonal, mouth set in a line even when they wanted to kiss the tip of Koutarou’s tongue that hung, surprised, from his mouth. 

“Is something wrong?” Keiji asked, polite as they had been before they had become even friends, and Koutarou shook his head minutely. He cleared his throat again.

“No - nothing…” Koutarou replied. His gaze was fixed on his hand, but neither of them acknowledged it, and the corner of Keiji’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Good,” they said, both praise and dismissal. Koutarou shivered, and the train rattled onwards as inch by inch, his own hand moved to cover Keiji’s, trembling when they rubbed over the crotch of his sweatpants.

“Miss,” Koutarou breathed,watching the aisle, and his fingers betrayed him, pressing on Keiji’s to intensify the pressure. “It’s really crowded. Someone might see.”

“See what?” 

Koutarou’s answering laugh was strangled, pitching higher when Keiji's fingers found the folds of his cunt through his sweatpants. The fabric was thick, but he wasn't wearing underwear, and Keiji didn't have to feign their short breath of surprise when they felt dampness seeping through the fabric already. He'd kept this secret from them - no wonder he had gotten squirmy and lascivious so quickly. They bit their lip to keep from smiling.

“What are you reading?” Keiji asked. Koutarou looked at them in momentary confusion before digging into their shared bag, pulling out the book Keiji had brought to read themself. He showed them the cover and they hummed over it, tone conversational as they fingered him through his pants.

“I see. I’ve heard good things.”

“Yeah -!” Bokuto squeaked, coughing to cover his moan. “It’s uh, great.”

“Well, enjoy it,” Keiji spoke as if they were bored with the conversation, punctuating their words with a slide of their fingers below his crotch. Koutarou was already damp, and he gasped, taking the hint and opening the book to where Keiji had marked it, his eyes scanning the pages vacantly. Koutarou hated reading - the words always got jumbled on the page, and audiobooks were more fun, he said - but he didn’t need to focus on that anyway, so the book served its purpose.

Koutarou wriggled in his seat as Keiji fondled the fabric of his sweatpants. He rose up for a few moments, pressing his feet against the floor and his back against the chair, and then dropped back down with a loud exhale. The friction pulled at the waistband of his pants, and Keiji took the opportunity to trace the V of his pelvis, fingers following his hip to his pubic bone beneath the fabric. There was no underwear to restrict their access, and as Keiji fisted the hair of Koutarou’s mound, he hissed.

“Ke-  _ Miss.. _ !” Koutarou’s eyes darted around the carriage, but no one had stirred. Even before he had established that, his body betrayed him, and Keiji bit back a laugh when they felt him rut upwards into their palm, whining through his teeth. His legs kicked out underneath him and the book trembled in his hand. 

Koutarou was always so  _ reactive _ . It made games like this all the more enjoyable. Keiji kept their eyes on their surroundings despite the incessant pull towards Koutarou’s flushed cheeks, making sure that he didn’t draw too much attention.

“Careful, now, if you get too caught up in the build up you won’t make it to the climax,” Keiji said. The metaphor might have embarrassed them, but it made Koutarou stifle his moan, and despite the redness in his face he steeled his gaze back on the pages, legs parting further to allow Keiji easier access. They followed his guide, sliding their fingers between his lipsand sighing when they felt the wetness that had already built up there.

“Good,” they muttered, barely audible, but Koutarou was straining his ears to hear them, and he sagged into their fingers, swallowing his whimper when they found his clit.

Keiji stared at Koutarou’s reflection in the window as they rubbed his clit, using his slick as lubricant. He, in turn, put on an admirable performance of reading the book, frowning at the page and turning it every few minutes, far faster - and sometimes slower - than he ever could have been able to read. He couldn’t hide his reactions completely, though, and the background thrum of passengers was punctuated with little gasps and sighs. He twitched against their fingers, inhaling sharply when they bent their wrist, seeking out his entrance and crooking their fingers to press them in. The angle was terrible, and Keiji’s wrist cramped with only two fingers inside him to the second knuckle, but they managed to fuck him gently with the help of Koutarou’s own movements. He was desperate, staring at them through the reflection even as Keiji’s own breath fogged up the glass.

_Please_ , Koutarou mouthed, and Keiji laughed. Someone walked past them and Koutarou brought the book down sharply over his lap, whining when he knocked their arm, jerking their fingers against a sensitive point inside him. 

The passenger didn’t so much as spare them a glance. It was a heady sort of power trip - one that had Keiji shuddering, hard beneath the cover of their skirt despite not having been touched. They shifted, allowing the silk of their underwear to catch on the head of their cock, and their fingers twitched inside Koutarou when it did.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed, and Koutarou was angling towards Keiji in an instant; they should have known he wouldn’t be content to sit idle, but they knew how immersed Koutarou could get in their roleplay, and that he was pawing at their thighs, eager to please when they were acting as complete  _ strangers _ sent a thrill down Keiji’s spine that they didn’t even pretend to hide. They pulled their hand from Koutarou’s pants, relishing his soft sigh of disappointment.

“I think I dropped something…Could you take a look?”

Koutarou scrambled to obey, ducking his head even as Keiji spread their legs against the chair to give him space. The second his back was bent, they gripped his head, pulling themself forward and hiding him in their skirt until his nose was pressed against their cock. He mouthed at it through their underwear without hesitation, and then used his teeth to pull it aside, lips wrapping around their cock like an old friend. 

Trying not to moan was a Herculean task. Koutarou's head bobbed beneath their skirt, moving the fabric, and all Keiji could see of him was his neck, broad and tense with the strain, and his shoulders curved towards his own seat so that he could maintain the pretense of looking for something. It was a difficult position to maintain, but it showed of the strength of Koutarou's back achingly well, and Keiji knew how eager Koutarou was to challenge himself.

They tugged and pushed at Koutarou's hair through the skirt, setting a rhythm that Koutarou eagerly obliged, one of his hands wrapped around their ankle. Trusting him to indicate if it got to be too much - a squeeze or a tap would be enough, they had negotiated similar things before - Keiji held him their as their arousal built. Their cock leaked precome into Koutarou's mouth, and he took care to catch it all, not letting any of it stain the fabric of their skirt. It was enough consideration to make Keiji smile, the softest of moans escaping with their laugh.

It was in the haze of their arousal, the humdrum noise of the passengers foggy in their ears, that Keiji noticed that the snoring had stopped. Jerking their head to the side, Keiji locked eyes with the stranger across the aisle. He had removed the hat that had covered his face and was staring right at them, not with a look of shock or horror that Keiji might have anticipated, but with smug surprise, as if he was superior for being party to their secret.

It pissed Keiji off. They bent low, murmuring so that only Koutarou could hear. 

“We're being watched.”

The game of pretend was over. Koutarou had slowed to listen the second he heard his name, and his nails dug into Keiji's ankles when they spoke, but he didn't stop even as Keiji completely released the pressure on his head. Instead, Keiji's breath hitched as they felt Koutarou's tongue curl slowly, almost tentatively around the head of their cock, dipping into the foreskin. He stroked Keiji's ankle soothingly, and his tongue was a question, as if he hadn't had almost the whole of Keiji in his mouth just a few moments ago.

Koutarou's fingers trembled, hot and damp against the skin of Keiji's ankle. Bunching the fabric of their skirt, Keiji caressed the top of his head.

“If you want to give him a show, be my guest,” they told him, and Koutarou took their cock into his mouth again, bobbing his head with gusto to take as much of them as he could manage, leaving no doubt as to what he was doing.

It was almost too much to bear. Keiji threw their head back against the seat, casting one quick glance at their audience to let him know they were aware of him and then lost themself in the sensation, staring up at the ceiling with their hand fisted in their skirt and Koutarou's hair. The wet sounds of Koutarou's mouth and his occasional gasps for breath were quiet, but to Keiji they sounded like thunder, the touch of his fingers on their leg electrifying. Embarassingly, Keiji felt their hips give out, and they slid forwards in their seat, hearing the suction as their cock thrust further into Koutarou's mouth, almost touching the back of his throat.

Koutarou made a small gulping noise as his throat constricted, and he swallowed a swathe of their precome. He was pulling them into orgasm, and Keiji, breathless and glassy-eyed, wanted to let him.

Keiji brought their knuckle to their mouth, biting down hard to keep themself from moaning, and then pushed Koutarou away. Their skirt dragged up over their thighs as Koutarou shook himself free of the fabric, meeting Keiji's gaze with red-faced confusion.

“Wh-?” Koutarou began to mouth, but he didn't have the chance to articulate his question before Keiji pulled him up roughly by the armpits, manhandling him in the cramped space until he was sat in their lap, facing forwards. He tried to twist to look at Keiji, but they pushed at him instead, dragging his pants down and then pulling him back into their lap. His bare ass pressed forcefully against their cock, exposed by the ride of their skirt, and Keiji bit the fabric of Koutarou's hoodie, hissing into it.

Koutarou was still blushing, but he had gotten the message by now and squirmed in their lap, eager to bring them off. He tried to look at them again, but Keiji reached up to tilt his jaw to the right. 

“Watch our spectator…” They murmured into his ear, and Koutarou shivered. “And the rest. Don't let us get caught right at the end.”

Koutarou nodded mutely, then stiffened when Keiji's hand traveled down his hoodie to find his cunt. It was mostly hidden by the top, but the movement of Keiji's wrist exposed more to the air, and as Keiji rubbed at Koutarou's clit they didn't have to look to know that the stranger across from them was getting the show of his life.

Koutarou's fingers found Keiji's thigh and squeezed, fingernails scratching at their skin as he tried to contain his moans. The blowjob - and their earlier ministrations - had soaked him, and his slick lubricated his movements over Keiji's lap, with barely noticeable but obscene pops as the air opened and closed between them. He was coming in no time, and Keiji relished the tension and relax of his shoulders; the way his shudder traveled all the way up his spine as he twisted on their bare legs, unable to control his twitching.

Not to be outdone, Koutarou didn't wait to catch his breath before he gripped the headrest in front of him, grinding his ass more purposefully against Keiji's cock. They weren't far away, and the combined thrill of Koutarou's orgasm with the tight, sweaty pressure of Koutarou's ass sent them over the edge. They hid their face in Koutarou's back, vision darkening, whiting out and then darkening again as they felt themself release into Koutarou's tailbone. They could see their pulse behind their eyes, matching the rapid rhythm of Koutarou's own breaths.

Keiji pulled Koutarou's sweatpants back up before he finished getting up out of their lap, leaving their come to drip down his asscrack and into the crotch of his pants, growing sticky for the rest of the journey. As he sat down next to them, he looked as if he might complain, but he bit his tongue when he remembered that Keiji might take him at his word.

“You're so weird,” Keiji said as they adjusted their own skirt, pulling it down to cover the drying slick on their thigh. They rested their head on his shoulder, murmuring with a content sigh. “I'll never get what it is about you and come. You'll be uncomfortable for hours, now.”

“Yeah, and then you'll clean me up,” Koutarou countered. He wasn't wrong. “Besides, I only like it when it's yours. Then I can feel you all the time.”

Their banter was cut off by the stranger across from them standing up, hat placed strategically in front of his trousers. “Bathroom,” he said gruffly, to indicate where he was going. He winked before he moved on, and Keiji waited until he was a respectable distance away before they laughed.

“I bet he wants us to join him,” Koutarou said, as if discovering a great secret. He was flushed with embarassment, the tips of his ears delightfully pink.

“Not likely. I'm tired now, and I want to read my book. You'd better not have gotten it dirty.”

Koutarou tossed it at them with a huff, but he was smiling. “It was your idea to use it! And people say I'm the bad influence.”

“Oh, darling,” Keiji said, opening up the book and holding it in one hand, the other landing on Koutarou's thigh to feel the warmth beneath his sweatpants. Koutarou shuddered. “They have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry-not-sorry.mp3


End file.
